


The Sad Tale of Oyster Girl

by sincerelymendacious



Category: Psychonauts
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Sneezing, TW: Blood, TW: Pain, TW: medical procedures, feelings of powerlessness, one-sided crushes, pn2 spoilers (minor), tw: body horror, tw: disturbing content, tw: gross imagery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-01
Updated: 2021-01-01
Packaged: 2021-03-11 06:00:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28466442
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sincerelymendacious/pseuds/sincerelymendacious
Summary: Being the 'acting' Psycho-therapist for a high-profile client is a great opportunity for an ambitious young intern like Razputin Aquato in theory. In practice, it's confusing and difficult for reasons that go beyond the client's unusual condition.
Relationships: Razputin Aquato/Lili Zanotto
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	The Sad Tale of Oyster Girl

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by a discussion had by some friends on the Psychowhatsits discord server involving potential crossover with the works of Junji Ito. This work was inspired by the plot of Black Paradox. I won't reveal more here, but if you are familiar with the work and have read the tags, you know that this isn't a pleasant story. So please keep that in mind before proceeding further.

A high, grating voice barged into Raz’s head, throwing him off. “What?” he snapped both out loud and in his mind. The sharp word drew the other interns’ attention away from the knife he had just thrown. It had missed the center of the target board by a large margin. 

_You are needed in the Med Bay,_ Cleo Volsario said. She was unperturbed by Raz’s irritation. 

_Let me guess,_ Raz thought back as he de-manifested the rest of his knives. _Report to room 314. Orella Paritsis is here to see you._

_That is correct._ Raz’s mockery of her voice did nothing to rouse Volsario’s annoyance. 

_Great. Tell them I’m on my way._ With a sigh, Raz picked up his jacket and shrugged it on. “We’ll have to continue this some other time,” he said to his two peers. 

Sam gave Raz a sly look from under the fringe of her bright red bangs. “That sucks. I was looking forward to seeing you hit everything but the target.” 

“I got distracted,” Raz said in his defense. “Volsario’s voice is like nails on a chalkboard.”

Sam could not deny that. “So where are you running off to?” she asked. She tried to sound casual but there was an edge of curiosity in her tone. 

“He’s off to see his Oyster,” Morris said before Raz could think of a good lie. 

“You’re such a snoop,” Raz said, sending him a glare. “And don’t call her that. She’s not my oyster.” 

Morris raised an eyebrow. “No? She likes you more than anyone else here.” He leaned back in his levitating lawn chair, a wry smirk on his face. “If that doesn’t make her yours, what would?”

Raz rolled his eyes, exasperated by Morris’ insinuations and Sam’s obnoxious snickers. “You guys suck,” he grumbled as he turned on his heel.

“Oh, come on,” Morris said, rolling forward to catch Raz before he stalked out the door. “Don’t be so sour. We’re only teasing you because we’re jealous. The Paritsis are a high profile client.” 

“Yeah, man,” Sam replied. “I’d switch places with you in a heartbeat if I could.” 

“Then why don’t you?” Raz asked.

“She’s allergic to shellfish,” Morris quipped. The other two groaned.

* * *

Raz hated to admit it, but Orella Paritsis did kind of look like someone that could have emerged from the ocean. Sallow-skinned and fish-lipped, her sad grey eyes lit up when Raz walked into her medical suite. 

“Hello, Agent Aqauto,” she greeted, the shy curve of her smile making her look almost pretty. “How are you?” 

Raz fixed a grin onto his face and went to sit in the chair placed on her right. “I’m doing good,” he replied, his smile as bright as the fluorescent lights overhead. He set the comics he brought with him on his lap and gave Mrs. Paritsis, sitting on Orella’s other side, a nod of acknowledgment. “How about yourself? What have you been up to?” 

Orella smiled like someone asking her how she felt was a novel thing. “I’m feeling good,” she replied, which could not possibly be true. At the moment she sounded like the most congested person on Earth, a gasp for breath accompanying each word. Her mouth remained open when she wasn’t speaking because breathing through her nose was impossible right now. Her head was pounding so loud that Raz could hear it echoing through his skull. Orella was not psychic, but pain laced the waves of mental energy radiating off of her. Raz hoped that the drugs Dr. Farman had given her would kick in soon. 

“I’m glad that you’re here,” Orella added, twisting her blanket in her hands.

Guilt settled onto Raz’s shoulders like a heavy coat. “Oh, thank God you said that!” he replied, hand flying to his chest as he sighed in mock-relief. “I was afraid that you might be getting bored with me.” 

“Oh no!” Orella gasped out a laugh. “I could never get bored of you, Agent Aquato!” Two splotches of red appeared on her pale cheeks. “You’re my favorite person here.” 

The adoration in her eyes made Raz’s stomach twist with discomfort. He needed to be more careful with his words. “It’s not like there’s a whole ton of competition,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “I can’t see Dr. Fartman winning you over with his electric personality.” 

“That’s quite enough,” Mrs. Paritsis said, her stern censure carrying over Orella’s stuffy giggles. “Dr. Farman is perfectly competent at his job. He’s done a lot to ensure that these procedures are carried out as safely and painlessly as possible.”

All anyone had to do was look at Orella’s nose to know the truth of that statement. The left side of her nasal bridge was swollen, a hard red lump straining through the skin. _At least it's only on one side this time._ But there was little point arguing with Mrs. Paritsis over Dr. Farman’s dubious abilities. Orella didn’t need the added stress. So Raz shrugged and let the matter drop. 

“You’ve got a new watch,” he said, pointing at Mrs. Paritsis’ wrist. It had a silver band and a wide, round face that shimmered a pale pink in the light. “It’s nice. What is that, pearl?” 

“It is.” Mrs. Paritsis covered the watch-adorned wrist with her hand. 

“Mother got it at Piaget’s,” Orella said when her mother did not offer up any further information. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. A small blue stud pierced the lobe. “I got these there too. They’re sapphires.” 

“That’s your birthstone, isn’t it?” Raz said.

“Yeah, it is!” Orella said, delighted that Raz had remembered. “It came with a necklace too, but I didn’t want to wear it today.” She frowned, her shoulders slumping. “I didn’t want it to get messed up from the…” She passed a hand over her nose. “You know.” 

The sudden plunge in Orella’s morale was palpable to both Raz and Mrs. Paritsis. “Shouldn’t you get started with your inspection, Agent Aquato?” Mrs. Paritsis said as she stroked her daughter’s hair. 

The Psi-Portal was in Raz’s pocket, ready to give access to Orella’s mind. “We’ve still got time.” Raz glanced at the wall clock on the other side of the room. “Dr. Farman won’t be here for a while.” Not that it mattered to Raz what time he came in. He had zero problems making the good doctor wait. “Did you get those while in Switzerland?” he asked Orella. 

“Um. Yes. When we visited Zurich,” Orella muttered. 

She had begun twisting her blanket again. Raz could feel the slow creep of anxiety into her mental wavelength. Some distraction from the ordeal to come was in order. “How’d you like Switzerland?” he asked, pretending to not notice the dip in mood. “You told me you were pretty excited to go to Europe for the first time.”

“Oh. Yeah, it was really cool.” It took some gentle encouragement, but soon enough Raz had her spilling all the details of her vacation. Speaking for a long time was not easy for her, but the more she did, the more she perked up. She covered her Zurich adventure only briefly, and spent more time telling him about her time in the Alps, which according to her, was ‘the best place in the whole world.’ 

“Have you ever been to Switzerland?” she asked once she was finished. 

“A long time ago,” Raz answered, “when I was a baby.” Vague recollections of traveling through snowy mountain towns flitted through his mind too fast for him to grab ahold of. “But I don’t remember anything about it.” _But I bet that my family didn’t pass through the same places that yours did._

“Would you ever…” Orella paused to snort, covering her nose as she did so, as though that would muffle the uncomfortable noise. “Would you ever want to go there again? Because if you did…” She trailed off and looked away, sucking her bottom lip in. “Maybe one day you and I could...you know…”

The arrival of Dr. Farman saved Raz from having to answer that question. “Hey, Dr. Farman!” he said, waving at the bespectacled man as he entered. “How’s it going? Cut out any interesting organs today?” 

Dr. Farman looked at Raz like he had just peeled him off from the bottom of his shoe. “Agent Aquato,” he said, suspicious of Raz’s enthusiastic greeting. He was a stern, straight-backed man with broad shoulders and a deep, commanding voice. “Orella,” he said, the flat line of his mouth curving upward into the closest thing to smile he could manage. “And Mrs. Paritsis.” He spared the woman a nod. “How is everyone today?”

“We are well, Doctor,” Mrs. Paritsis replied, glaring side-long at Raz as though daring him to contradict her. ”Considering the circumstances.” 

Orella nodded in agreement with her mother but said nothing. She shrank back into her bed, her hands trembling in anticipation of what was to come. 

Raz nudged her with his elbow and gave her an encouraging smile when she looked at him. _You’re okay,_ he thought into her mind. _You’re gonna get through this._ They were useless words; a bland reassurance that wouldn’t make anything less distressing than it was going to be. She smiled all the same. 

“Right,” Dr. Farman said as he placed his briefcase on the counter across from the bed. The cabinet above him opened up and out came the tools he would use for Orella’s preliminary check-up- a thermometer and three types of scopes that Raz could never remember the name of. “Agent Aquato, if you could wait outside-” 

“Not so fast, Doc,” Raz said before the doctor could approach. Dr. Farman’s eye twitched- he hated it when Raz called him that. “I still haven’t done my walkthrough.” He pulled out his Psi-Portal- a plain, unpainted standard-issue model. He waved it in the air above his head. “That has to come first.” 

Dr. Farman was not one to turn red when angered. If anything, the air around him grew chillier. “You were supposed to do it before my arrival,” he said, a cool edge of disdain in his voice. 

“Oh, sorry,” Raz said in the most unapologetic way possible. “You know how it is with me and Orella.” He gave the girl a conspiratorial wink and she giggled behind her hand. “She was telling me about her awesome vacation in Switzerland.” He beamed, the very picture of innocence. “Maybe you’d like to hear about it too?” 

“Perhaps later,” Dr. Farman said, though he and everyone else knew that pleasant conversation would be the last thing Orella would want after this was over. 

He looked to Mrs. Paritsis for an explanation and received only a resigned shrug in response. “Agent Aquato,” he said once he turned back to Raz, “I would appreciate it if you didn’t draw this out by putting off the job you were assigned to do.” The wheeled stool by the counter rolled across the room to where the doctor stood. “In the meantime, I’ll speak to Mrs. Paritsis,” he said as he sat down. 

Raz grinned, floating the Psi-Portal up as he turned to Orella. “You heard the man,” he said, before placing the tiny door onto her forehead. 

* * *

It was business as usual in the lonely mansion that made up the mental environment of Orella’s mind. The denizens- most of them taking the form of Grecian statues and talking portraits- were as distant and dismissive as ever. In the background, the piano in an undiscovered room played the same sad, slow song it always did. Raz did not miss that there was a new portrait in progress in the Art Room. Nor did it escape him that the subject bore a striking resemblance to himself. _He looks like that prince Lili used to see me as,_ was what he thought upon discovering it. 

He didn’t bother mentioning the painting to Dr. Farman after returning to the physical world, deciding that it wouldn’t have any impact on the procedure. It was a personal issue between him and Orella anyway. But it was one that he needed to address sooner rather than later. _But how the hell do I do that? She hasn’t even said anything about it yet._ He frowned and pressed his back against the wall next to the door of Orella’s medical suite. _Should I be direct? I don’t want to hurt her though. She’s a nice girl and jeez, she’s got enough to deal with._

Through the wall, he could hear Dr. Farman going on about the drug he was working on to help Orella with her problem as he put the Powder Applicator together. Progress was proceeding in a slow but steady manner. Too slow in Raz’s opinion. Especially considering that there was another option available to the doctor; one that he was adamant about not taking. 

Raz switched his train of thought back onto a track that wouldn’t make him angry. _I could tell her that I can’t date her because I’m her acting Psycho-therapist. It wouldn’t be a lie._ That seemed to be a good idea for all of three seconds. _But what if she thinks I’m secretly into her and that this could be a forbidden romance?_ He sighed, slumping. _Maybe I can keep pretending not to notice. But dragging this out isn’t cool either. Ugh, what a dumb problem to have._ The whole thing was so stupid and so confusing that Raz rolled his eyes at his inability to deal with it. 

He was pondering the best way to insert the fact he had a girlfriend into a future conversation when the first sneeze came. It began with a false start- Orella made an uncomfortable series of ‘ah, ah, ahs’ before going quiet. The grinding of the Powder Applicator was not audible outside of the room, but Raz knew that was the next step. The same could not be said for the sneeze. It was loud, the shriek of a cat that had its tale stomped on. Something hard then clinked against a metal surface. 

Sobs and heavy breathing were what Raz heard next. He wasn’t sure what happened in the break between sneezes. He could find out by sliding into the mind of one of the room’s three occupants. But that was wrong on so many levels that Raz refused to even consider it. Listening to it was bad enough. 

Dr. Farman was as conservative with the amount of sneezing powder he used as he was with everything else in his life. Thus, the ordeal would continue for a few minutes. Raz could only handle five sneezes before he had to push himself away from the wall. He knew what it was like to sneeze a brain out. One second you’re comfortable and safe in your house of flesh and bone. Then the next, you’re a naked, squishy lump of thought, slithering like a slug over the ground. As bad as that was, Raz thought Orella had it way worse. At least brains came out fast and painless. 

So Raz headed off to the vending machine at the far end of the hall, the sneezes, screams, sobs, and snotty expulsions fading with the distance. He stood before it, contemplating the sweet and salty selections. The machine was still out of 24-Hour Chews, forcing him to debate between the MellowCrunch and the Monte-Crispo. _It’s been like this for two weeks,_ he thought as his gaze shifted between the two candy bars. He had no idea which one was the better choice, circus confections having turned him off to sweets. He did know that MellowCrunchs had peanuts in them. Had Orella mentioned being allergic to nuts? _Better safe than sorry._

Dr. Farman opened the door as Raz was walking up to it. The splattering on his white coat was minimal this time around. He looked like he wanted to reproach Raz for leaving his ‘post’, but he stepped aside to let Raz in. 

Little need to ask how everyone was. Orella was slumped back against her pillow, face reddened and hair plastered to her forehead with sweat. Her eyes were swollen, tears leaving tracks down her damp face. Sobs racked her small body as she struggled to catch her breath. Mrs. Partistis held a cloth to her nose to staunch the bleeding, but some of it escaped to trail over her lips and drip down her chin. Perhaps the only good thing to come out of this was that her nose was less lumpy, although it hardly seemed to be a silver lining to this cloud. 

A metal pan was on her bed. Within it lay several misshapen rocks, covered in a mix of wet blood and thick, yellow-green snot. They weren’t  really rocks; you wouldn’t find anything like them laying around on the ground.  Dr. Farman said they were ‘cranial deposits,’ made up of brain fluid and solidified psychic energy .  When clean, they were pretty to look at, colored in a variety of pastel-hues and giving off a pearly luminescence . A faint hint of psychic energy pulsed off of them, strong enough to for both of the psychics in the room to sense. 

Raz fought against nausea that swelled within him. _I shouldn’t be looking at them,_ he thought, and he cast his eyes away from the products of Orella’s misery. The sense of wrongness didn’t abate with his averted gaze. Orella was still crying, still a physical and emotional wreck. Her pale-faced mother hadn't even finished cleaning her face off.  _I s_ _houldn’t see this,_ Raz thought.  _Why doesn't Dr. Farman give her more time before letting me back in?_ It seemed unkind, to make him stand there with his candy bar and old comics, unable to do anything to help Orella. The more rational part of his mind reminded him that Dr. Farman was not so petty.   
  


A few seconds passed before Orella realized that he was there in the room with her. When she did, she struggled to a more upright seat, managing a weak smile. “Raz,” she said, her voice sounding like it had been scraped raw with sandpaper. 

Raz willed his discomfort away and went to her. “Hey,” he said once he reached her side. “You doing alright?” He didn’t allow more than a small hint of the concern he felt to inflect his tone. Orella had told him that the most common reaction to her unusual condition was a mix of disgust and pity. “No one ever says anything mean out loud,” she had confided in him one day when her mother was out of earshot. “But… I know. Everybody takes one look at my nose and flinches, and then they pretend that they didn’t. And then I have to act like I don’t know that the person I’m talking to would rather be doing anything else.” She swiped the back of her hand over her eyes. “That’s why I like you so much, Raz. You never looked at me like that.”

Orella gave a weary nod in response. Her eyes, watery and red-rimmed, gleaned with affection. “I’m okay.” She reached out, palm open like she wanted him to put his hand in hers.  
  


Raz put the candy bar in her hand instead. “I got you a Monte-Crispo,” he said as her fingers closed in around it. He pretended not to notice the flash of disappointment in her eyes. 

“Thanks.” Orella cradled the candy bar in her hands, the wrapper crinkling under her fingers. “I really like these.”

_But they aren’t your favorite._ He regretted not being able to do this simple favor for her. _They might never restock that vending machine. I ought to buy a bunch of 24-Hour Chews so that I’ll have them on hand for next time. I don’t think that chocolate goes bad, so they should be okay for a while._

Mrs. Paritsis motioned for Orella to hand the candy over. “You can eat it later,” she said as Orella reluctantly gave it up. She tucked the treat into her purse, her features pinched with irritation. _You better hope it doesn’t melt all over your expensive wallet,_ Raz thought, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. 

Mrs. Paritsis was not the only person annoyed by the gift. _Why did you give that to her so soon after the procedure?_ Dr. Farman asked, his cold tone like an ice cube on Raz’s brain. _You know that she won’t be able to taste anything for at least an hour._

The doctor had not bothered to look at Raz while chastising him, gaze focused on the chart he was writing in. Raz decided to extend him that same lack of courtesy. _I’m just trying to brighten up her day a little,_ he thought back, _and it's not like she can’t eat it later._ “Do you think that you’re up for the post-procedure interview now?” he said before Dr. Farman could respond, “or do you need a few minutes?” 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to Rocket for editing the work and to the rest of my pals at the Psychowhatsits discord server for encouraging my nonsense.


End file.
